


Perfect Fit.

by asailoratheart



Category: Maksyl-Fandom
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, House hunting is a bitch, Inside Maks' head again...I'm ok with it, Maksyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asailoratheart/pseuds/asailoratheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maks and Meryl go looking for the perfect house...it isn't as easy as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt from canarybirdy on Tumblr: ‘Maks and Meryl go house shopping.’

This should be easier.

You’d think that they would know exactly what they wanted…but no. The apartment they’ve been living in for the past year and a half is beginning to feel too small and after talking about the logistics, a house is the next step.

The quick engagement surprised absolutely no one, not even them ( _‘Soulmates,’ she whispered one night, laying in their bed_ ) and truthfully how long it’s taking them to plan the wedding isn’t as bad an omen as the press would like the speculate. They’re spending the rest of their lives together, rushing a wedding isn’t something necessary for them, they have their other half…hook, line, and sinker.

But this,  _this_  was pushing his patience. Finding a place for them to settle down and start a family should be easy, considering how they usually agree, but they keep clashing and he’s ready to lose it. Going into this they knew,  _4 bedroom, 2 and a half baths, nothing over the top, plenty of space in the backyard for a swing set (one day), good neighborhood_ …so why was this so hard?

She didn’t like the neighborhood.

He didn’t like how the house was laid out.

She hated the lack of storage.

He thought the bathrooms were cramped.

What one thought was perfect, the other would pick apart and they would move on.

_13 houses, all scraped from the table._  He can tell she’s upset…she’s giving him the look that tells him so, the one that holds fire in her eyes and her mouth in a grim line. He hates when she’s unhappy…everyone knows this. So he swallows his pride and when they exit the car, he turns to her.

“Stop,” he exhales, and looks at her, “Hold my hand for a second, babe.”

He knows it’s the right thing to say before the words leave his lips, but seeing the light creep back into her eyes, tension easing from the corners, mouth relaxing in a slight smile, reassures him. Holding up a finger to their real estate agent, he draws her away.

Wrapping his arms around her smaller frame, he holds her as they  _breathe,_   _sway, recharge_  in one another. This is enough for them, they know without speaking that if they don’t find their house— _their home_ —they won’t give up hope. After taking that moment, they untangle…and he tilts her chin up with soft, steady fingertips to press a kiss to her lips. Turning back to the realtor, they reach for each other’s hand…facing things together is just  _how they did things,_  no matter how big or small. He loves that about them, about her…that they are a team in everything.

The 14th house the realtor takes them to is a subdued, but cheerful yellow with a decent sized yard in the front attached to a two-car garage. The front door opens to a small foyer, wooden stairs in front of them leading to the second floor ( _“Three bedrooms upstairs, with a bathroom attached to the master”_ ), off to their right is a family room with a big bay window; to the left, a formal dining room.

As they move through the house, he begins to feel more and more at ease. He loves it…he can picture cooking in the kitchen, can pinpoint exactly where they’d put the T.V., already knows where they would put their bed. It feels like  _home_.

Risking a look at her while they stand in the master bedroom, he sees her looking out the window, which overlooks the backyard. Coming to stand slightly behind her, he appraises the land, and follows her eyes to a patch to the left of the biggest tree on the property.

“There,” she breathes, unflinching, “we should put it there. The swing set.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he mumbles something akin to an agreement. She understands what he’s seeing, picturing, in his mind. He sees their children, running and playing, in that backyard in the not so distant future. Eventually they turn and head back downstairs to meet back with the realtor.

“So,” she asks, looking between them, “what do you think? Want to keep looking and keep this as a ‘maybe’ option?”

“No,” He says, smiling and looking at the woman next to him, holding his hand and returning his smile, his happiness, “We’re done looking, this is it. A perfect fit."


End file.
